Finding Faith and Reason
by Catori Simone Winston
Summary: *PROMPT: Main character of any fandom finds faith.* Sherlock wasn't a normal child. His rapid fire deductions and the way he carried himself in a crowd made him a target for the tormenting comments of his peers. When Sherlock one night just gets up and gets out of his house, it leads him to an unexpected and not at all logical place. Though maybe, this was where he needed to be.


Sherlock Holmes from a very young age knew he was different. It wasn't that he looked different. It was the way he held himself in a crowd. The way he spoke to people, his rapid fire deductions that could spew out when he was looking at a case or when someone had really angered him. On the very rare occasion, when some _person_ hurt someone he loved the deductions would be aimed to hurt, maim and shatter the offending person. There were very few people he ever talked to that wouldn't tease him for being different, or out cast him, or alienate him for being different, that was until he was fifteen. Fifteen was a difficult year. His peers turned out to be crueler than they had been in previous years. Sherlock took it in stride, going to school and ignoring them, but even Sherlock had a breaking point. It was his first and last breaking point, and it came in the cold, late night of December.

Sherlock had been wondering why he had been born like this. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't he just fit in? Why did he have to stick out in a crowd and be an object that everyone could torment? Suddenly he was darting out of his room, his coat pulled from the rack and he was out the door, quickly and silently. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he needed to go. His thoughts ran in circles and became a blurred color with the intensity. He could see his breath in front of him and the cold was beginning to get to him as he didn't choose the warmest coat to go out in. He looked up and his feet stopped. The glow of the moonlight gleamed on the building that was in front of him. He blinked and began walking towards it. _It's beautiful_, Sherlock had thought. It was the only time in his fifteen years that he had seen something so beautiful that it had brought tears to his eyes. He walked in and the place smelled like pine, and the warmth of the place only increased the pine scent. Sherlock knew where he was, but his mind wondered _why here_? Of all the places why this one? Its beauty was breath-taking, yes. This place, that held ideals that didn't hold any water in science, wasn't going to help him. He was a scientist, a cold-hearted scientist; this warm place wasn't going to melt anything. The ideals they held had to be false. There was no proof. Sherlock took one last glance and walked out, his shoulders more rounded and his walk looking more defeated. If this place, the place that was supposed to help you, couldn't help him, he was one lost cause.

"Young man?" An elderly voice said behind him. Sherlock stopped and slowly turned around. An older man in about his late 50's, early 60's was walking down the isle. "What are you doing here this late? Where are your parents?" He asked. Sherlock continued to stare, the deductions came to him and within a few moments he knew everything about the man. Sherlock sighed.

"I'm sorry. I was just leaving. I honestly don't know what I am doing anymore and my parents are at home, along with my brother, asleep. I just needed to get out." Sherlock said, not sure why he was divulging this much to a man who he didn't even know his name. "I don't even know why I'm here." Sherlock said, more to himself than anything. He looked up to the man in the isle again, in burgundy flannel pajamas. His hair was gray and his eyes a mix of green and brown, hazel. His build tall, in good shape, the wrinkles on his face told of his age and experience. The kindness in his eyes and face though told of a man who had been hurt. "I'm sorry to bother you." Sherlock said again, beginning to walk out.

"Something brought you here. You know that?" The man said before Sherlock had left. This stopped Sherlock again. Sherlock didn't turn around but his eyes were moist.

"Why would something bring me to a church of all places, you believe in something that can not be proven. How do you know that everything you believe in is not a hoax? You can't even see… _God_." Sherlock said, the water spilling down his face as he turned to the man and questioned him. The man's soft voice spoke again.

"Can you see the air your breathing?"

"No. Of course not." Sherlock said.

"Can you feel the air your breathing?" The man asked again.

"Yes. You can." Sherlock replied, not understanding why this man was asking him about air and why he couldn't stop crying.

"Do you feel the warmth in this place?" The man asked, stepping towards Sherlock. "When you walked in, did you suddenly feel at home? Maybe feel, like you could breathe?" Sherlock swallowed and looked around. He looked at the pew, the candles that lit the place, the seating… Sherlock began nodding.

"Yes." He choked out.

"Then how in the world can you say that it's not real?" The man smiled. "Son, faith isn't something you see, you need to feel. People who believe, it isn't something they see, it's something they feel, because at a point in their life they realize they've hit rock bottom for them, and they've hit it hard. So, they look up and for a moment they feel alone, scared, like no one's in their corner. Then they feel it. That warmth, the comfort and they see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now, some will go running after that light immediately. Some though, will bask in that warmth a bit more. They need to be healed. That fall left wounds and they will leave scars, but they will be healed. Believing in God, isn't just believing in something you can see. It's believing in what you feel." The man explained. At this point Sherlock was crying. There was no sound from him, but the tears wouldn't stop. The man walked over to Sherlock and sat him in the seat next to him. The man sat with him and put his arm around Sherlock. Sherlock immediately wrapped his arms around the man. The man smelled like a sweet scent, nothing Sherlock had ever smelt before, and dirt. Sherlock swore that he could also smell chocolate as well.

"My name is Raphael." The man said.

"Sherlock."

"Nice to meet you Sherlock." Raphael said. Sherlock pulled up a bit and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "What's got you so upset?" Raphael asked gently. Sherlock looked at him for a moment and then slowly began to tell him, everything. Sherlock was amazed at how open he was being to this stranger. Finally, he finished and he was sitting in his own chair now but leaning into the man's embrace.

"So, could you deduce me?" Raphael asked. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes. He remembered seeing the man before and used that image.

"You are in your late 50's maybe early 60's. You have no family, though you seem to be a very caring person, which is unusual. You have no agenda, again unusual. You have seen a lot in your life time, most likely have been through war. Your father left you and your mother before you were born and your mother died around eleven or twelve. Your grandmother raised you after that and she was extremely religious. She most likely took you to church every Sunday. That is also where you got the firm belief you have now." Sherlock finished. It was one of his shorter deductions, but he didn't have the strength to go on. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you didn't. You have a gift Sherlock."

"You really think so?" Sherlock asked, vulnerability shone in his eyes. It was the only time that Raphael wished others wouldn't be so cruel. This child was special and he had never been told as such.

"I know so. How many others have that gift Sherlock? Being able to do that just by looking at me? Not many. You are so special. Please, don't ever forget that." Raphael said. Sherlock looked over to the window and watched the sun come up over the church. He sighed.

"I should be going home now. My parents might worry, at the least my brother will tell them I was out at night." Sherlock looked over to Raphael looking into his eyes that looked greener now.

"You best be on your way then." Sherlock stood and nodded. He wrapped the coat around him and was beginning to head out when Raphael stopped him.

"You've got to promise me something though." Sherlock looked at him. "You come up here this Sunday for service and don't forget how special you are." Sherlock nodded.

"I will see you Sunday then." Sherlock said as he headed out into the cold. Raphael just stood there until Sherlock was gone. His smile was gentle and his eyes completely emerald green. He began walking towards the pew of the church and disappeared.

Sherlock never saw Raphael again. He went to church that Sunday, asked about a man named Raphael but no one had heard of him. Sherlock finally found out, a few years later, that Raphael was a Guardian Angel. For Sherlock, it helped confirm his belief. He began to go to church every Sunday. When Sherlock moved into Baker Street, he kept a bible in his room, hidden underneath a text book about flowers and one of anatomy. Every Sunday he goes out of the flat and attends church, one day he hopes that John will accompany him. For now though, he remembers everyday what Raphael said and Sherlock walks through out London, finally knowing that he is special, that Raphael is watching over him and he is one of God's children.

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**A/N: The prompt was a character finding faith. So, I immediately thought of Sherlock. What a character to find faith when he is a scientist! So, I imagine that Sherlock's beliefs wouldn't be something advertised. **

_**Also, many thanks to Guest Reviewer Alex. I am so happy that you enjoyed the story and Merry Christmas Early! :)**_

**I hope you everyone enjoyed and make sure to hit that review button down there... ~Catori**

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